As my kids get older, their perception of me continues to evolve, too. Sure, Little KJ looks up to me with the awe that any two year old gives to their parents. However, to B and J, I’m no longer Superdad, high on a pedestal. The curtain has been pulled back, and I’m just regular dad now. For example, I used to read them the book Why I Love My Daddy, by Daniel Howarth, and they would compare me to each reason given in it (“I love my daddy because he’s strong.” “Hey, you’re strong, daddy!“). A while ago, though, I overheard them reading the book to each other, but then comparing me negatively (“Dad’s not THAT smart.” “He’s only KIND OF funny.” ). Page after page of little gut punches to me.
I realized that I needed to do something extraordinary to shake up how extra ordinary my kids seemed to think of me. And after thinking long and hard, I decided on what that was….
I WAS GOING TO THROW OUT THE GREATEST FIRST PITCH OF ALL TIME AT A BASEBALL GAME!
Ya darn right, I was serious! See, to really impress them, there has to be a high degree of difficulty, which they could appreciate. As well, it needs to have a coolness factor to it. This checked all of the boxes, in my household of baseball fans/players. As well, throwing out a ceremonial first pitch is one of the few jobs where there are high hopes that you fail miserably. Everyone loves a good blooper, and asking non-pitchers to fire one in there can be a recipe for disaster. It’s a surprisingly daunting task!
Now, you have to be pretty special to have the honor of tossing out a ceremonial first pitch bestowed on you. Fortunately, I’m a top dawg who does top dawg things, so this was easy to arrange. Ok, none of the previous two sentences are even remotely true, but I did reach out to my man Randy Whitaker, who’s the General Manager of the MILB’s Harrisburg Senators, and he made it happen (in addition to hooking us up with tickets to the game, too, in the interest of full disclosure).
With the date and location set, my next step was to prepare. In order for this to truly be the greatest ever, to really wow my kids, I would have to respect the grind and put in some work. They say that those who ignore history are doomed to repeat it. With that in mind, I decided that some serious advice was required.
Unlike me, Monique Evans really was a top dawg doing top dawg things when she was asked to throw out the first pitch at a Texas Rangers game in 2014. At the time, she was Miss Texas, and it’s somewhat of a tradition by the Rangers to have the newly crowned winner do the honors! While the throw was lacking, the amazing, unorthodox flair in the delivery was not. I figured that I could learn a thing or two about showmanship, if I contacted her.
“Before, I was feeling pretty nervous and excited; during, I was feeling hopeful”, she told me via DM. “After, I just had to laugh because it didn’t happen like it did in my head. But I didn’t realize how truly bad it was until later.”
In my head, I pictured myself on the mound with the swagger of Prince, firing a Noah Syndergaard-esque fastball. I could see things not playing out like this at all, in real life, though. The pizzazz is certainly memorable, but if I truly wanted to make the best first pitch of all time, I probably needed to focus on the throw. I did ask Monique Evans for some advice.
“Have fun, smile, and don’t take yourself too seriously!”
When Jordan Leandre was a child, he had cancer, and went through the Jimmy Fund for his treatment, a foundation whom the Boston Red Sox work closely with. Over the years, he has had the opportunity to take part in several on-field ceremonies at Fenway Park. He was a varsity pitcher, as well. To summarize, not only does he have pitching experience, but he also has experience in performing in front of large baseball crowds. Yet, when you search “first pitch in the nuts”, or “first pitch hits guy in balls”, or something along those lines on YouTube and Google, Mr. Leandre’s infamous experience from 2017 immediately pops up. While hilarious, I didn’t want the second name to come up when you’re searching these phrases out to be mine. I just had to pick his brain a bit.
“I wasn’t overly nervous. There are obviously some nerves going in there because the crowd is so huge, but for me it wasn’t too bad,” says Jordan, via DM. “But I’d also done it before so I was more comfortable in front of the crowd. Some advice I’d give is to just zone in on whoever is catching you. If you can somehow zone out the people watching, it becomes a game of catch. Another piece of advice I’d give is to just have fun with it.”
Between Monique’s and Jordan’s tips, I now head in the right direction for greatness. I still wanted to get some words from the toppest (yes, I know that’s not a word) dawg that I could think of.
When reached for comment by me for this post, the press office of Barack Obama politely declined, on his behalf.
Oh well. Maybe next time, Barack. My man Randy Whitaker of the Senators did give me one more tip, though, to complete my prep work: “JUST DON’T BOUNCE IT!”
After months of
sitting on my butt watching the Toronto Blue Jays perfecting my four seam fastball, the big day in Harrisburg finally arrived. I purposely delay telling B and J about my moment, and when I do, I’m happy to say that I see glimmers of awe in their faces. B even sounds jealous.
Now all that I had to do was groove one into the catcher, and bask in my kids’ adulation afterwards.
B and J were allowed to accompany me down to the field, so I asked them each to record my pitch. Luckily, Harrisburg isn’t exactly Arlington or Boston. The crowd is still rolling in when my name blares on the soundsystem, and not super large. Finally, it was time for greatness. Time to unleash the best first pitch ever. I took a deep breath, zoned in on the catcher, wound up, and threw. Here is what happened:
Dang it! I guess that I should have trained J better on making videos. Here is what actually happened, courtesy of B’s footage:
Yeah, I didn’t bounce it, but I almost pegged the mascot in the head. Ugh.
As I walked off of the field and up to our seats, there was no adulation. No basking. No good job. Nothing.
I tried, but greatness had alluded me. To be honest, I am not very upset about it, either. Throwing out a first pitch at a minor league game isn’t as big a deal as I’m making it out to be, obviously. I just randomly wanted to do it better than it’s ever been done before. I thought that it might gain me some long lost cool points with my kids. It’s not like they think any worse of me now, however, after blowing it. Most importantly, it was a lot of fun!
We were in Harrisburg/Hershey for the week, as part of a media trip. When we returned home a few days later, one of B’s buddies came over and asked him how the trip was. To my surprise, the first thing that B told him about was me throwing out the first pitch! I mean, he also told him that it kind of sucked, but that’s not the point, right? #coolfather
Maybe I’ll never be the Superdad that I used to be. You know what, though?
I’m Ok with that.
Ordinary with an occasional touch of extraordinary is just fine. Things will never stop evolving with my children, but I’ll always be their dad, and that’s all that matters.
Yo, Daniel Howarth. I got a bonus chapter now, for your Why I Love My Daddy book:
Until the next one, peace!